In the spotlight

37

Sofia Christensen

"Looking great, Sof!" As soon as I stepped outside of the hotel room, I found myself in front of a smiling Xavier. He was leaning against the wall, his hands resting in the pockets of his black suit pants ironed to perfection. He was matching a white suit shirt and an equally black jacket over it. His tuxedo was completed by the small black bowtie around his neck.

"You are not bad yourself." I returned the compliment because, honestly, he totally deserved it. The suit was absolutely immaculate, the black color enhanching his bright features, especially his light brown hair and eyes. I could already see his night beforehand; the women of the fashion week won't let him breathe for sure, per usual.

I stepped next to him as we both picked up our pace and headed downstairs, where our taxi was waiting already. The hotel was completely quiet at this point; the silence was almost deafening after such a busy week. Everybody has arrived at the dinner party except us already.

The afterparty of fashion week was something I never really cared about. I loved the MET galas and the different red carpet events I was invited to, but these after parties were an entirely different subject. I would describe it as a dinner party with the MET gala's level expectations.

Red carpet or not, however, the both of us adored to live up to the expectations. Xavier's tuxedo was definitely going to be the talk of the evening, and my outfit is probably tomorrow's news. When I was picking out mine, I made sure to quite literally kick the industry's doors down with my reappearance.

I ended up doing such a great job that I couldn't help but stare at my reflection for several minutes. Everything clapped perfectly. I had a tight cocktail dress on, glittering on the beige linen whenever the lighting changed around me. The linen ran down up until almost my ankles, but a slit opened up the dress in the front, reaching until the middle of my right thigh.

A similarly looking glittered chocker hugged my neck, adding to the overall complexity of the dress, and it's spaghetti straps and cleavage that have left my shoulders bare. My hair and makeup were done professionally before the runway show, and I managed to keep the braids on the two sides between the locks that were left free intact.

We headed downstairs next to each other, mentally preparing ourselves for the upcoming events. We had one job ahead of us and one job only, to look completely perfect in front of the cameras, and nothing else.

An astonishingly beautiful Mercedes was parked already in front of the hotel's building. The street around us was eerily quiet, as if nothing had changed once we exited the tall building. Xavier walked up to the car and opened the door, waiting for me to settle inside. After I could check that every last part of my dress was inside the vehicle, he closed the door and quickly got in next to me.

The driver accelerated to the road as buildings and street lights started passing us, merging into the dark night sky behind us. I rested my head on my hand as I was watching them and later the lit-up Eiffel Tower itself pass, but paying very close attention to my highlights and winged eyeliners so I wouldn't smear them away.

"You ready?" My dearest friend was the first who broke the silence. The car started to slow down after about 15 minutes or so, and I assumed we were nearing the destination.

"Hmm." I hummed as my form of answer. I really didn't want to be here at this party, and the worst was the fact that I couldn't explain why exactly. I had this unsettling feeling nested in my stomach, and I really couldn't wait until I got home and fell into my bed.

The vehicle pulled up in front of the very lavish Gothic-style building and came to a full stop. The red carpet leading up to the restaurant's entrance was separated on both sides with cords, and before exiting the car, I was already grateful for that idea.